The Way Out
by MichellesPenScratches
Summary: One-shot. Shortly before Tales From The Borderlands. Sasha expresses her misgivings about the next job. At least Fiona is there to give her sister encouragement.


"I gotta hand it to you, Felix," Fiona was saying. "I wasn't sure that plaster would look like anything but a lump of varkid waste, but that's a Vault Key if I ever saw one."

Felix gave one of his chuckles that seemed reserved only for his eldest foster daughter. "Thank you, my dear. I confess I'm no one's sculptor, but it should do nicely. We shall see once it's painted, I think."

Meanwhile, Sasha slouched in the driver's seat of the stationary caravan, fumbling with the goggles around her neck. She was on edge about what this con would require of her next, but she knew what kind of response she'd get if she told her small family so. Instead, she sat up abruptly and made her way to the kitchen cabinet—such as it was in this compact caravan the three of them shared.

She thought Felix was too preoccupied with the fake Vault Key to notice as she reached for a bottle of whiskey. She thought wrong. "Sasha. Put that back, darling," he said in that high-and-mighty tone of his, without even glancing up at her.

"Just one," she persisted. "I need to calm my nerves."

"And I need you to keep your head clear for what's to come," he threw back. "How would it look to the Purple Skag's owner if his newest bartender staggered in with whiskey already on her breath?"

"Getting you into that job wasn't easy, sis," Fiona added in a softer tone.

Sasha's lips tightened. Leave it to them both to cut right to the heart of the matter. "That's what I need to calm my nerves about," she said. "I'm just not sure I can go through with this."

At that Felix's gaze slowly turned towards her, stony and unblinking. "Is that so?" he intoned. "I rather thought this role would suit you. After all, it didn't seem to bother you back when you brought that biker hoodlum of yours to our doorstep."

Sasha slammed the whiskey bottle down on the table. "Okay, first," she jabbed a sole finger in the air, "I can't believe you'd bring that up! I was, what, sixteen at the time?"

"Fifteen." The monocle with which Felix peered at her seemed to magnify his disapproval. "You were fifteen, Sasha."

She had never been exactly content in the life of a con artist—at least not as much as Fiona—but her discontent had struck especially hard in her teens, when she had started sneaking away from the caravan to try and make friends, flings…anything but just another mark to bleed dry. Felix had called her a "wild child," and she had worn the badge proudly.

Maybe her judgment hadn't been at its finest in those days. And maybe living on Pandora hadn't given her the greatest choices of company to keep. Still, she couldn't have predicted when she'd brought that biker to the old safe house for some time alone that Felix would be there at the time…or that her date would recognize her guardian from a previous hustle.

Besides, that had been nine years ago.

She crossed her arms and gritted her teeth. "That's not the point."

"Indeed not. The point is that countless hours of my planning were ruined, and I had to move the safe house, all because you had a schoolgirl's crush. And do you remember what you promised me then?" He turned to his favorite. "Fiona, you spoke to her first—you remember what she said, don't you?"

"You promised _us_," Fiona recalled, more gently, "that you wouldn't do anything to jeopardize a score ever again. You promised we'd always look out for each other first."

Sasha scoffed. "Of course you're taking his side, Fi!" She snatched the whiskey bottle again and stormed out, ignoring Felix's protests.

She climbed onto the roof of the caravan and took a long swig of her borrowed liquor. She gazed up at the stalactites hanging above Hollow Point like lanterns of solid rock. Just enough of the Pandoran sunset crept into the cave to illuminate its top in dusky orange. A memory flickered through her mind of how much she used to love the sunset and the night sky, with all its promises of better worlds out there. But then Hyperion came and stamped the moon with that big, damn H-shaped base of theirs. Now even those skyward dreams seemed like someone else's bottom line. At least the view of the cave ceiling was still relaxing enough. After enough whiskey.

A carpet of light widened and then shrank once more into nothing as the caravan door opened and closed. Sasha caught enough of a glimpse of the shadow cast by the light to know that it was Fiona who just walked out. Her sister sat down beside her on the caravan roof, knees drawn in.

A moment's silence passed between them.

"Well, c'mon, don't hog it all. Give me a sip, too," Fiona said good-naturedly, holding out her palm for the whiskey bottle. Sasha gave a fleeting smile and complied. She let Fiona tilt the bottle and swallow before speaking up.

"Do you think all of them deserved it?"

"Did who deserve what?" Fiona asked while following Sasha's gaze to the stalactites overhead.

"Our marks," said Sasha. "I know we live in the lawless capital of the universe and all, but…was everyone we ever conned so bad that that they deserved to lose everything?"

Fiona took another drink. "…Okay. Probably not," she admitted. "But on Pandora you have money, or you have guns. That's the way it's always been. When you don't have either of those things, you use what you do have. And for us, that's the hustle."

Sasha gave a short laugh as she took back the bottle. "Think I'd rather have the guns. At least shooting someone is honest. Doesn't hurt them as long, either."

"Is that what's bothering you?" Fiona asked. "You starting to feel sorry for this August guy at the Purple Skag?"

Sasha shrugged. "I know it hasn't been that long, but he already looks at me like I'm some kind of answered prayer."

"…You're not getting attached now, are you?"

At this, Sasha tossed her head and gave a much longer laugh. "Are you seriously asking me that right now?"

"Yes," Fiona said. "I seriously am."

Sasha sighed. "No, Fiona. Of course it's not like that. I got over his type after that thing with the biker." A pause. "I wasn't about to say this in front of Felix, but you were right back then. The three of us, we're a family. We look out for each other, first. A guy like August, he doesn't fit in all that."

"So what is it, then?" asked Fiona. "Why start feeling sorry now, for some thug?"

"Because I thought he would treat me like one. I was expecting slaps, threats. Hell, I wanted that, so I could see the stupid look on his face when the job was done, and smile."

"If he had hurt you, I'd have made sure he wouldn't be making that stupid face for long when the job was done," Fiona said with a sneer.

"You don't have to be so protective—we're not kids anymore," Sasha retorted. "But the thing is, he didn't…and I don't think he will. There's blood stains in places I never thought there could be all over that bar. It's…kinda gross, actually. But with me, it's like August thinks I'm—I dunno—his way out." Again she tilted the bottle. "I get exactly what that's like, you know. Looking for a way out."

Fiona combed through Sasha's ropey hair with her fingers. "I know you do, Sash," she said. "I've always known. But don't forget, that's exactly what this score is all about. That's why it has to be August. You remember how long we all looked for someone who had an inside to one of the corporations, _and_ who might actually fall for the fake Vault Key?" She grinned. "I remember how happy you were when it turned out to be Hyperion we get to screw."

Sasha returned the grin. "It will be fun to show those Hyperion bastards they still have farther to fall."

"Now you're talking," said Fiona. "Stay focused on that, and this job will be our way out. You'll see."

"Okay. I can do that." Sasha put down the half emptied whiskey bottle. "It's not like August hasn't done anything to deserve taking the fall for this, right?"

"Don't even linger on that. Just remember…before Felix. After August. One thing's never going to change. We'll always have each other, sis."

"Yeah." Sasha nodded. "Always."

* * *

Not too much later that night, Sasha arrived at the doorway to the Purple Skag. There was nobody inside yet, save for August's golem of a right hand man, Tector.

"Oh, it's you. Ain't you a sight, as always," the lumbering behemoth greeted her. "August ain't back yet. Some…family business come up."

She put on her best concerned face. "Oh no," she said. "Is everything alright? Is it something I should worry about?"

"Not if you keep quiet and mind your place." Tector appeared to try to smile, but with his opposing rows of craggy teeth, it was more of a threatening sneer.

"Okay. I'll just be waiting behind the bar."

She assumed her post and busied herself with wiping the countertops and setting out glasses. There was a tension in the air she knew all too well. It always felt like this right before a gun was fired, or a bar brawl erupted. But how could that be, when the place was empty?

That was it, she realized. It was _because_ it was empty. Even the regulars hadn't arrived yet. Something wasn't right.

Just then, August skulked in. He looked sullen, his nostrils flaring with a fury desperate to be released. There was a razor thin injury running from his temple to his eyebrow, like a brusque slap from a bejeweled hand.

His condition was so disorienting that it came easy to Sasha to play the eager-to-please barmaid. "Boss? What happened to you?" she gasped, leaning forward on the countertop. "Was it Psychos?"

"Yeah. One," he grunted dismissively. He latched the entrance behind him and turned off the neon purple sign out front that was the bar's namesake. "Go on home, Sasha. We're staying closed tonight. Hollow Point's lowlifes will have to whet their whistles someplace else."

She seized the opportunity in those words with a deftness she knew would make Fiona proud. "Okay, but let me help you first. That cut looks bad." She snatched a whiskey bottle and the cleanest rag available, then wheeled around the bar. Before she could usher August to sit at the nearest table, he looked at the whiskey bottle and then eyed her with suspicion.

"You been drinking all the product? I can smell it on your breath," he said.

The excuse was as effortless as the first breath of air outside the caravan when Felix had been smoking his pipe. "Oh, that. When Tector said you were having family trouble, I just got worried and had a drink. It was only a little one, I promise."

"…Tector told you that, did he?" His gaze shifted to the giant, who smiled uneasily and set about overturning the stools onto the tabletops for closing.

"If it's a problem, I'll make it up to you." Sasha pulled out the nearest chair and urged August to sit. He complied. "I'll smile extra pretty at the customers tomorrow evening. The tips should cover the loss, right?" She took the seat beside him and opened the whiskey bottle.

"….It's fine. Don't worry about it," he relented. He rested his weight onto his elbow, chin on knuckle. It was the closest he had come to being relaxed since he slunk in. "…Wouldn't say no to one of those smiles of yours, though," he added.

"I'll smile all you want after this is cleaned." Sasha proceeded to dab the rag with the contents of the bottle, then pressed it gingerly to his face. _And, here comes the wince,_ she thought. He did indeed wince. She drew back the rag and blew softly on the affected area. A few more repeats of this, and then she closed the bottle and set it on the table. "There. You're all set, boss." She draped the rag over her shoulder. True to her word, she smiled.

He smiled back. "You don't have to keep on calling me that, you know." His hand moved tentatively from his chin to the edge of the table between them.

It was an invitation, she knew, and not a demand. Still she accepted it and coiled her fingers around his. "I been hoping you might say that." A wink. "August."

With his free hand, he brushed a few stray locks of hair back behind her shoulder. "Not too many decent girls on this planet," he said. "Lucky break that I found you, I guess."

The forward incline of his head might have been imperceptible, if it wasn't already exactly what Sasha was counting on. Slowly she mirrored it to close in. _Don't focus on him,_ she reminded herself of Fiona's advice. _Think about that big ugly H in the sky, and the sleazebag on it who's money he's going to help us get._

They joined in a kiss…and it was then it dawned on Sasha that thinking about some pompous Hyperion bigwig wasn't helping to clinch the moment. Instead, she tried latching onto the memory of her biker. His name was long forgotten, she was embarrassed to realize, but she could still recall how it felt to brush lips with what seemed like freedom, back at age fifteen.

"You'll always have me," she lied when they parted, as convincingly as possible. Then, imagining she was speaking to Fiona instead of August, "You and me, we're going find a way out of all this. I just know it."


End file.
